


Beauties - and a Beast?

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fellowship of the Ring, Humor, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2004-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what about the eye of a Hobbit? A morning around the campfire yields interesting and ironic revelations for certain members of the Fellowship. A light-hearted trek off the beaten path. Slight sarcastic OOC-ness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Shorter Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Merry sighed unhappily. “Is he still watching us?”

Pippin glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder and saw the darkly burning eyes upon them. “Yes,” he whispered, a little loudly.

The other hobbits sighed together, pushing their food around on their plates in most un-Hobbit-like manner. “Downright unnerving is what it is,” muttered Samwise darkly.

“Just try to ignore him, and maybe he’ll lose interest,” Frodo said evenly, ever the voice of reason. Lowering his voice, he added, “Still, I do agree that having those eyes always upon us is…unsettling.”

“He’s so… _different!”_ Merry gave an involuntary shudder. He was putting it too kindly.

“He’s so… _ugly!”_ Pippin whispered. The others stared at him in open-mouthed shock. There, one of them had finally said it.

_“Pippin!”_ Frodo hissed at him in surprise. “Don’t be so unkind to someone so unfortunate!”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? Mr. Frodo?” Samwise spoke up.

Frodo looked sternly at the younger Hobbits. “True or not, we oughtn’t to judge someone by our own standards. For all we know, his own people may consider him quite handsome,” he said in a hopeful tone of voice, though his expression told them he clearly thought otherwise.

“Handsome,” Merry snorted, regaining the center of attention. “With that stature? Have you ever seen anything more ridiculous?”

“His bathing habits!” piped up Pippin once more, instantly forgetting he was supposed to be being chastised. “I’ve never seen anything more atrocious!”

“The way he eats,” added Samwise, “…and the way he smells…”

“And all that _hair,”_ finished Frodo (forgetting he was supposed to be defending the poor fellow), running a hand over his smooth cheeks and through his short, curly tresses. “Or lack of it!” he added mirthfully, giving the luxurious fur on his graceful, shapely feet a tug, earning him chuckles from his fellow Hobbits.

Yes, it was indeed good to be a Hobbit. Despite his advanced years, they still considered Frodo something of a beauty. Merriadoc was known in the Four Farthings for his handsome face; Samwise had an undeniably pleasant countenance; and Pippin, the youngest, still had an air of childish beauty that served him well, poised as he was on the brink of adulthood.

Quite unlike… _him._

The object of their scrutiny suddenly got up from his seat across the fire from them and tottered off awkwardly into the bushes. The way he walked made the Hobbits shudder, but at least he was gone for a while and the Hobbits could eat in peace.

“Makes me loose my appetite to see him like that, it does!” Merry said vehemently, proceeding to cram his face.

“Just try not to think about it!” said Frodo desperately, following suit. “After all, he’s probably not doing it on purpose.” _Probably._

Finishing their meal in haste, the other Hobbits pushed back and contentedly patted their full, pleasantly rounded bellies.

“Have you seen the way he _eats?”_ ventured Sam, after a few moments of silence.

Frodo frowned slightly; he’d hoped they would leave that topic behind.

“Pretty disgusting,” Merry agreed, shaking his head woefully. Did their kind not have parents who taught their children proper manners? Apparently not, for their companion obviously had no clue about proper dress, grooming, or conversational skills. It made one wonder what they _did_ teach their children, if anything.

The object of their scrutiny came back from the shadows and resumed his seat just beyond the firelight. He was silent for the moment, which was well, for his strange voice grated on their ears.

“What’s he doing now?” whispered Frodo despite himself, for his back was to the fire.

“He’s fiddling with his weapons,” Merry whispered back, _“Again.”_

Pippin gave a snort of disgust. “Doesn’t his kind think about anything besides fighting?”

“At least he’s not _staring_ anymore. Those eyes of his give me shudders!” Sam put in.

“But I think his appearance is even worse,” Pippin confided. “All his improper habits aside, it’s his _body_ that is the worst part! His limbs, his stature – so _awkward!”_

“Then you should pity him instead of reviling him like this,” said a sonorously deep and somewhat reproachful voice from behind them.

_“Oh!”_ The Hobbits gave a squeal, unaware that another member of the party had joined them. They gasped with relief when they saw who it was.

“Oh, thank Heavens it is you,” said Pippin, pressing a hand to his racing heart.

“What is all this ungracious talk?” asked the newcomer. “I expected better manners from Hobbits of such gentle reputation and renown.”

All four flushed guiltily, looking at the ground. He was right, of course. They knew better than to pick on someone less fortunate.

“Chins up, lads, no real harm done. But I suggest you try to make it up to him and be a little nicer in the future, for if I am not mistaken, he’s overheard at least a bit of what you’ve said.”

Frodo gasped, covering his mouth in shock. Turning around, he saw that indeed their unlovely companion was watching them once more, especially Frodo, with an expression of sorrowful regret plainly read in his abnormal eyes. Frodo felt his heart plummet and guilt overcame him; he couldn’t believe he’d spoken so unkindly of a comrade who was risking so much to help him!

“I must speak to him,” Frodo said softly. “I should apologize.”

“Mayhap you should, lad.” The other shifted slightly on his feet. “Remember, he’s got feelings too, at least, one assumes, and he can’t help the way he looks.”

His resolve strengthened, Frodo squared his shoulders and prepared himself. Casting a glance over his shoulder at his fellow Hobbits, who were watching him in surprise, he marched straight across the camp to where their companion was seated alone.

The other figure looked up and an expression of mild surprise marred his strange features.

Swallowing a deep breath, Frodo addressed him. “Legolas?”  



	2. The Eye of the Beholder

“Frodo?” replied Legolas. He was surprised but pleased; it was unusual for the Hobbits to seek him out. They tended to prefer the company of the Wizard or the Men. Legolas himself considered it unseemly to put himself forward when he obviously made them uncomfortable, and so contented himself with keeping watch over them from a distance. This one was Frodo, easy to tell from the others because of his greater age and a certain air of intelligence he carried. Poor, poor, Frodo, Legolas thought. He felt very sorry for the sweet little fellow who carried such a burden, and gave him another pitying look. “What may I do for you?”

Frodo swallowed hard. Legolas had such a sad look on his strange face, Frodo was sure his feelings must be crushed. “Legolas… I, that is, we…uh… Legolas, I’m so sorry!” he blurted out at last.

The Elf cocked his head, confused. “Whatever for, Frodo?”

The Hobbit was miserable. The expression of confusion on the Elf’s face made him look even less intelligent – it wasn’t making this easy! “I’m sorry we’ve spoken so meanly about you, Legolas! We didn’t intend to be cruel, we just didn’t think! We know you can’t help it, and actually, we like you! We like you a lot!” Frodo hurriedly spoke, stumbling over his words.

“Cruel?” Legolas’ confusion deepened. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Now that he had finally gotten that off his chest, Frodo’s words came easier, and he was anxious to comfort the Elf, who he was sure must have been wounded by their unkind words about his obvious repulsiveness. Frodo patted the long, thin hand of the Elf reassuringly.

“Please don’t be upset, Legolas. We know it’s not your fault that you are so…well… Well, the important thing is, you’ve got a good heart! Nothing else matters and I hope we shall all be friends! We don’t really care that you are so…well…”

“Frodo, what-“

“Please!” Frodo cut him off. “Please, don’t be too hard on yourself. You really are not all that unattractive,” the Hobbit reassured him hastily, mistaking the Elf’s dumbfounded look for something else. “In fact, your features really are not all that bad. It’s just that you are so…so _tall!_ And you are so thin, it makes you look really elongated, unwieldy really, and – oh, how uncomfortable that must be, you poor thing! But really, it’s not such a terrible thing to be so gangly. I’m sure your stature has many advantages! Such as… erm…” For the life of him, Frodo couldn’t think of anything nice to say about being so unnaturally tall.

“Gangly?”

“And the other things, well, they’re not all that bad!” Pippin piped up from behind Frodo, trying to support him. “It’s not so terrible you must bathe so often! I’m sure it helps keep that woodsy smell you have under control!”

“Smell?”

“And your eating habits aren’t all that grotesque,” Sam said helpfully. “After all, anyone who picks at his food the way you do, just leaves more for the rest of us! Am I right?” He looked to his fellow Hobbits for confirmation.

“Grotesque?”

“And there’s nothing really wrong with your hair,” said Merry warmly, also fearing he’d offended the Elf. “I mean, Men don’t have enough hair on their feet, either. And if _everyone_ had curly hair, well, it wouldn’t seem so special, would it?” He grinned broadly at the excellent point he’d thought up right on the spot, though he pitied the poor Elf for his lank and lifeless locks.

“That’s right,” said Frodo. “True companions stand by one another, regardless of what they are or what they look like. We know you cannot help the way you are, but inside it all you are a good person and we wish to be friends. Please do not take to heart our unkind words earlier.”

Legolas was, to put it mildly, shocked speechless. They thought him ugly, and were trying to tell him it didn’t matter? Had they any idea how patronizing, how _condescending_ they sounded!? He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. It wasn’t really their fault, he reminded himself. They were just poor simple country folk who didn’t know any better.

“My gentle Hobbits,” spoke the Elf a little frostily, “be assured I am not upset with you. I appreciate your willingness to generously overlook my…faults. I am happy to consider us friends.” He smiled warmly, though it took a great deal of effort. He was startled and a little hurt to discover that the Hobbits had held his un-Hobbitness against him. The Elf couldn’t quite get his mind around it. Legolas for his part had adored the sweet little simple-minded folk, and he loved them _because_ of their differences, not despite them.

The Hobbits bowed politely to him and made their way back to their sleeping space to settle in for the day’s rest. Legolas shifted slightly when another companion made his way over and sat beside the Elf. “Amusing creatures, aren’t they?” said the Dwarf in his deep, melodious voice.

The Elf snorted. “But their hearts are good…even if their eyesight is a little poor!” He shook his head. “Do others really find me that ugly?” he asked Gimli, looking sideways at the Dwarf and arching a thin eyebrow.

Gimli stroked his full, luxurious beard as he answered. “Not ugly, really. Just different. You must admit, it takes a little getting used to.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders.

Personally, Gimli found the Elf’s stringy frame and wiry stature quite hideous, though he would never say such an unkind thing aloud. The Dwarf had actually surprised himself by coming to the Elf’s defense. Certainly he had no qualms about antagonizing Legolas for _acting_ like an Elf, but he wasn’t going to cruelly make fun of him for _looking_ like an Elf. The former could be helped, the latter could not. And in the end, despite his flighty ways and sometimes arrogant manners, the flimsy-looking Elf _did_ have a good heart underneath it all, and that was what mattered.

 

THE END


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